The Way of the Monk
by Yukaianne
Summary: Huiliang, a young Pandaren Monk, is swept into the war between the Horde and Alliance, forcing her to become corrupted beyond repair.
1. Introduction

**AN: This is just the intro! If you don't want to read this and want to get right into the story, just skip it!**

* * *

Welcome, and thank you for clicking on this story! This is the first story in my second-coming on this site.

This isn't the first story I've ever written, but to you guys, it's most likely the first that you've seen from me.

Just a little thing to be aware of before you read this and while you read this: this IS technically a fanfiction in the sense that it takes place in the universe and during the events of World of Warcraft, but uses an unofficial character within the game.

Yes, that character is my own character, and yes, she is level-capped and I raid with her when I have a subscription. However, this is NOT a self-insert. Huiliang the Monk is nothing like me and never will represent me. She is her own character, and is completely fictional.

Also, because this is set in the universe of World of Warcraft, some events and characters may be difficult to follow and understand. I will do my best to explain the story, as this is from Huiliang's perspective and everything is mostly completely new to her too. I aim to teach you about what Huiliang is learning. Hopefully it works.

On another note, I may or may not be slow to update. It depends on whether or not I have any ideas, to be honest. With continued support, it'll be easier for me to continue updating at a regular pace, or at least fairly often. I'll aim for at least a chapter a week, but I have standards.

These chapters will be at least 2,000 words long, so there won't be short little filler chapters that you can breeze through in five minutes. I want this to be a deeper experience that effectively tells an intricate story, as there is much to tell about. If you're looking for short and sweet, this is not for you. Maybe I will eventually put up something short and sweet that I've written, but I may not.

For some perspective, **this** is the 335th word in this introduction.

Feel free to leave any kind of feedback you want to. I will read everything and probably even message you a thanks or a reply to your comments. I appreciate all kinds of feedback, whether it's negative or positive.

Thanks ahead of time, and I look forward to going on this journey with you all!

- Valarana (Yukaianne)


	2. Chapter 1: The Initiate

When I was a little girl, I hadn't realized that there was a world outside of Pandaria and the Wandering Isle. Everyone I knew and everything I heard was from the Wandering Isle, or from the shores of Pandaria. I've never actually been to Pandaria, and I don't think I'll ever get to see it. The mainland is simply too far away and those who leave on boats to find the misty continent hardly ever return, and those who do return don't say anything about what they saw.

It's possible all of those who didn't return have been lost at sea, sucked into the abyss of the Maelstrom in the center of the ocean, where the sea gives way into a seemingly bottomless hole. I've never seen the Maelstrom either, but I've heard the stories. Rumor has it that a single Shaman and his wife hold the balance of the area, stopping the chasm from engulfing everything.

I don't believe it, but that's the story.

I can't say that I was able to live like all the other Wandering Isle Pandaren before me, though. I won't be able to live my whole life and die a peaceful death on the island.

And to that I say, "Damn the Horde."

As I grew up, I learned the sacred martial art that all Pandaren learn. Of course, it's not for fighting or defending yourself. It's just an art, almost like a dance. I've been learning the rolls and turns since I was old enough to walk.

It's not all about learning the moves, though. I've spent countless hours meditating and doing yoga before and after training. Learning the martial art is my one passion, and it drives me in everything I do.

I arrive at the school grounds early in the morning to meet with my instructor. Today is the day I'm supposed to become a fully-fledged Monk, one of the highest honors on the island. Many train their whole lives and never reach this point. As I bow to Master Shang Xi, a messenger jogs to his side, looking worn and out of breath, as if he had just run around the entire Wandering Isle.

"An urgent message for the academy, Master Shang Xi," the messenger pants. He offers a scroll, which Shang Xi gently takes from him and unrolls. After reading a few lines, the look in his eyes changes from his usual gentle, guiding gaze to one I've never seen before. Concern.

Master Shang Xi clenches his fists and grits his teeth. The wrinkles on his forehead deepen, and he turns to me. "Huiliang," he says, "the academy is in a state of emergency. If you were any other student, I wouldn't ask this of you, but I need you."

Worried by his change in demeanor, I ask, "What's going on? Am I not getting initiated?"

"You are, I promise," he assures me, "however, your initiation is not going to be anything like you thought, I'm sorry to say. I'm going to need to train you and the other capable students how to fight. There's been an invasion."

Fighting? Never, in the entire history of Azeroth, have Pandaren fought against an invader. Fighting is unheard of on the Wandering Isle! I've never hurt anything, not even the tiny bugs that get caught in my fur. I'm probably the least suited for the job at hand. At least other students have the guts to hit the training dummies!

"Huiliang," Master Shang Xi must have seen my panic. "I need your help. I know you dislike the very thought of fighting, but you need to learn. The whole isle needs you now."

I exhale the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and nod stiffly. "I can do it. I can't possibly let you down, Master." With a bow, I silently apologize for my lie. I can't do this. I can't fight, even if my life is in danger. Even if the whole island is in danger.

"Let us proceed, then. You have much to learn," Master Shang Xi stands and bows to the messenger, who then begins jogging to his next stop. "We'll need to alert everyone in the school, and provide them with whatever we can use for weapons." I follow him to a rack of staves, and he hands me the one I've always used for practice. "Huiliang, I need you to go and ring the bell to get everyone out here. I will continue gathering weapons for them."

"Yes, Master," I say as I bow. Standing, I breathe deeply and prepare myself to explain why I'm in the bell tower, which has always been off-limits to students. I set off down the hill to the entrance of the school and shove through the early students, pushing toward the stairs. Jaomin Ro, one of the trainers, is standing at the bottom of the stairs, making sure no hooligan trainees sneak upstairs and pull the alarm for a prank. I hope I don't have to explain to him when even I have no idea what's happening. Luckily, he sees either the fear in my eyes or the way I'm holding my staff in a death-grip and steps aside for me to continue up without a hitch. I feel him watching me as I climb.

The bell is a large brass cylinder with the bottom missing. I could probably climb inside of it with three other students and still fit comfortably inside. I see the thick, red rope hanging near the bell and reach for it shakily. I feel wrong doing this, but orders are orders, especially from Master Shang Xi. I grip it and pull downward as hard as I can.

The sound of the bell is deafening, but I bite my lip and pull again. I can only stop when my ears are ringing and everyone is in the training yard. I feel someone grab my shoulder as I'm preparing to pull the rope again. Jaomin Ro turns me around and glares at me furiously.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing up here, miss model student?" he asks icily. Jaomin's a stickler for the rules, just as I am, but he clearly hasn't heard the news from anyone. I swallow hard and stare up at him. Jaomin is a towering Pandaren. He's bigger and stronger than most others, and seeing him up close like this only makes me feel like I'll get shoved off the bell tower or dragged straight to an authority and kicked out of the academy.

Breathing heavily, I stammer, "M-Master Shang Xi wishes for everyone to g-go to the training y-yard," I inhale deeply and grip my staff, "He sent me here to alert everyone. There's something horribly wrong on the island. We're going to learn to fight."

It's sad to say, but I feel bad for learning to actually fight, even being a fully-fledged Monk. My initiation was simple: defeat six of the other trainees in a duel.

Is it bad that I almost wish I hadn't come today?

Master Shang Xi only taught us a few simple attacks, but it was clear that he didn't want to do even that. He reluctantly taught us how to aim kicks for opponents' heads, and punches for the solar plexus.

"It's to defend our home," he kept saying. "It's to save the Wandering Isle."

The small amount of combat training wasn't enough. We needed more.

When I left the academy grounds to scout the island, I immediately saw the smoke.

Someone had crashed into the island.

Having no idea where else I could go, I make my way toward the pillar of smoke, carefully trying to avoid attracting any unwanted attention, in case there are enemies around the area. I catch sight of a couple of Pandaren chatting with each other and gesturing toward the smoke.

Slowly creeping closer to them, I recognize the pair. They're Aysa Cloudsinger, dressed in her honorable Monk's blue leather garb, and Ji Firepaw, in his matching orange set. They're revered among students of the academy as possibly the best students ever to study there. Seeing them gives me a sense of comfort that the island will be okay.

It's odd seeing them together, though. Ji is from the Houjin clan, and Aysa from the Tushui. The two branches aren't exactly known for getting along. I approach carefully, not wanting to interrupt anything important. They notice and turn toward me.

"Oh, good, some reinforcement," Aysa sighs with relief. "The academy must be on the move."

"Whatever that's worth," Ji retorts, "None of the students there know how to _really_ fight, Aysa." He glances toward me. "This one's probably not even a Monk."

I stiffen and puff out my chest. "Actually, I am, thank you very much." I immediately regret sassing Ji Firepaw. I should have remembered that he's a bit of a hothead.

"Well then, miss I'm-a-Monk-as-a-matter-of-fact," Ji Firepaw jeers, "How do _you_ suggest we take the ship out of the side of the island?"

"Knock it off, Ji," Aysa scolds him, "She's obviously been freshly initiated. Look at her armor and how she holds that staff."

"Hmph." Ji huffs and turns to observe the smoke again. "Well, she'd better be ready to help us look for explosives in the wreckage. I'm going to blow up the ship that's lodged in the isle's side."

I gasp and Aysa snaps, "Ji, we _can't_ just detonate a load of explosives and get the ship out. You'll _kill_ the isle!"

"What's going on here?" I ask. None of what they're saying makes any sense to me. Killing an island? That's not possible. A ship is stuck in the isle? How did a crashed ship not just run ashore?

Aysa turns to me and explains, "A strange ship crashed into the isle. It's lodged deeply into the side, and the isle is damaged. There are strange outsiders running around the wreckage, and we need to get them out. Ji wants to detonate the ship, but it'll kill Shen-zin su." She stops and glances at the smoke, which has suddenly grown thicker and blacker. "There's no time to clarify, we need to hurry!"

Ji, Aysa and I begin running through the fields and trees between us and the smoke pillar. It seems so far away, but as we draw nearer, the sky grows darker with smoke. I hear the yelling of foreign tongues in the distance.

We stop on the crest of a hill and stare down at the wreckage. I've never seen anything like it before. So many different races are fighting each other, it's hard to tell who is the party who crashed and who isn't. A small, green-skinned man approaches the three of us.

"The Alliance has crashed. Would you three like a piece of the action?" His voice is raspy and he speaks with a heavy accent. "I'm an engineer for the Horde, and we're trying to get rid of them just as you are. I've come up with a way to do it, but I'll need your help."

Ji Firepaw steps forward and yells, "Yeah, I'd like a part of it!"

The small man grins. "That's what I like to hear. You see, us Goblins aren't big on elaborate plans. We like to charge in, guns blazing. That's where you Pandaren come in," he pauses and rubs his hands together before continuing, "You Pandaren don't belong to Horde or Alliance. No one will pay any attention to you when you sneak into that ship and plant these bombs-"

Aysa interrupts him angrily, "No! We can't do it like that! We'll _kill_ Shen-zin su!"

"Who?" The Goblin asks, obviously not caring. "Let me tell you, honey, we're going to kill a lot of people today. There's no stopping it. But I'm just betting on more Alliance dying than Horde!" He turns back to Ji, grinning. "What do you think? Will you do that for me?"

Ji nods quickly and turns back to Aysa and I. "There's really no other way to do this, Aysa. Now let's go plant some bombs."

In the thick of the battle, no one pays us any attention, as the Goblin predicted. They're all too busy fighting with each other to notice me and Ji loading explosives onto the ship. Aysa refused to come with us. I don't blame her, but I don't see another alternative either. I don't want to kill Shen-zin su, whoever that is, but this ship has to be removed. The Wandering Isle has already stopped moving, and the sea level is rising slowly. We're running out of time.

When Ji and I are a safe distance away, the explosives are detonated. Everyone turns to look, and a low, bellowing scream shakes the island.

Suddenly, the ground begins to shake and I see the river of red.

The isle is bleeding. The Wandering Isle isn't _land_, it's a giant animal!

I gasp and Ji scans the area for Aysa. I spot her and yell, "She's over there!" We sprint toward her and find that she's surrounded by other foreigners. There are some Humans, some tiny Humans, and some larger Humans with pointed ears. They look nothing like the Goblin from earlier.

"I've gathered healers to heal Shen-zin su. They're from the Alliance and they didn't mean to crash into the isle. They were shot down by the Horde," Aysa explains. "We have no time to lose. Shen-zin su is dying."

The healers spread out and begin casting spells, which I'd only heard stories of. Monks don't cast spells, so I have no idea what they're doing. Aysa clings to Ji and chews her lip, staring at the river of blood flowing from Shen-zin su. It shows no sign of stopping for quite a while. Slowly, the flow of blood lessens and the healers cheer. Aysa breathes a sigh of relief and I can't believe it's over.

After a few minutes of rejoicing, I ask, "So, what do we do now?"

A crowd had begun forming around the blast zone, observing the area. Among the crowd is Master Shang Xi, who approaches us. He has a solemn expression, and we all stop smiling.

"It pains me to say this," he begins. The whole area falls silent. "But we Pandaren can no longer remain isolated from the world." Whispers spread through the crowd. What is Master Shang-Xi trying to say? Are we joining in this war? "We have to do our part to stop things like this from happening again. Ji Firepaw, Aysa Cloudsinger, I leave the choice to you. You two were invaluable during this catastrophe. You are fit to lead us in whichever direction you choose." Master Shang-Xi bows to the pair, and the crowd follows suit.

"Thank you, Master," Aysa says, "This is a great honor, but I fear that we have become split. We don't all fit with the Horde, and we don't all fit with the Alliance," she pauses and glances at Ji with a sad look in her eyes. "I'm joining the Alliance, to try to maintain balance in the world. All who wish the same are free to join me."

I watch as Aysa slowly walks over to the healers. A couple of them clasp her shoulders, and she looks as if she's going to cry. It's then that I realize that leaving Ji is the hardest decision she's ever made. She may never see him again. She may face him in battle someday. She may have to kill him.

"Aysa," Ji starts. He, too, looks upset by this whole situation. "I don't agree that the Alliance is seeking balance. I'm sorry, Aysa. I'm joining the Horde. I can't stand by and wait for a practical way to solve every problem. All who agree can come with me." Ji turns and strides over to a group of green-skinned foreigners. Some were Goblins, others were bigger and tougher-looking, others tall and lean.

I'm torn between the two. I don't know who to join, but I know I have to join one. I'm in too deep to go back now. I can't simply go back and live a peaceful life. That changed the second I became a Monk.

"Huiliang," Master Shang Xi murmurs, "You are free to go whichever way you choose. No one is expecting you to choose one over the other."

I nod and smile at him. It's comforting, hearing this from my old master. His words help me clear my head, and I decide then what I want to do.

I'm joining the Alliance.


	3. Chapter 2: The Compassionate

The ship ride to the Eastern Kingdoms was a long one. The Alliance boatmen helped us Pandaren onto the ships with blue sails soon after we gave the notice that we were joining them.

A lot has already changed. As Aysa of the Tushui joined the Alliance, all of the Pandaren who followed her became known as Tushui Pandaren, even if they used to be Houjin. The same is true for Ji's followers.

Another thing that is odd is that the Alliance soldiers keep asking everyone what kind of soldier they want to be, out of three choices: healer, fighter, and guardian. They also keep "classing" all of us. Some of the Pandaren who didn't make it as Monks on the Wandering Isle are becoming classed as Shamans, Rogues, and Warriors.

Soon, a tall, purple-ish skinned Night Elf in large, plated armour approaches me. "Excuse me, miss," he begins, "what is your name?"

I take a deep breath and hope I don't end up re-classed. I've trained too hard to become a Monk for that to be taken away from me. "Huiliang," I reply, "Monk from Shang-Xi Academy."

"You completed your Monk training?" the Night Elf asks, raising a long, bushy eyebrow, "you seem younger than the other Monks here."

"I'm 24, and considered an adult in less than a year, sir. At least to other Pandaren. I don't know if it's different for you."

The Elf chuckles a little. "Well, we Night Elves age much differently. When I was your age, I still looked like a Human teenager. I'm in my thirties already."

"You wear your age well, then," I giggle, "am I allowed to know your name?"

"Xanirios," he holds out his hand for me to shake, "I'm a Protection Warrior stationed in Northrend with my partner Maral. They called me down to help with the Horde... problem. I guess word got out about how much I hate Orcs."

"Northrend?"

"I'm sure you'll be there someday. Everyone ends up there sometime on their way to the top raiding groups. It sure is cold though, and there are Scourge still there from the Lich King's attack." After seeing my confused face, Xanirios stops and continues what he came over for. "Would you like to be a healing Monk, fighting Monk, or guardian Monk? You can pick any now and change later, but you'll have to learn from scratch and on your own later if you change. I'll let you know now, most of the Monks we have in the Alliance already are fighters, so it'll be harder for you to fit into a raiding group later."

"You keep mentioning raiding. What is that?" I ask suddenly. Raiding sounds dangerous. Is that what the Horde was doing on the Wandering Isle?

Xanirios sighs and says, "You know, I don't quite know either. I just hear whisperers of the next raids of the Firelands to gather materials and weapons. Apparently, you have to be really strong and exceptional at your class and useful to the group in order to even participate," he pauses and gives me a suspicious look. "You're stalling, aren't you? You don't know what to choose."

I frown at him. "It's not that I don't know, it's that I don't want to have to fight. I became a Monk to perform a sacred art, not to fight in some obscure war that I've never heard of."

"Then be a healer."

"Why?"

"Healers don't necessarily fight. They just keep their allies alive. And we could use some more of them," Xanirios pauses, "does that sound good, Huiliang?"

"I guess I have no choice if I don't want to have to fight, right?"

"Yeah, you really don't," Xanirios smiles slightly. "You know, I was in a similar situation as you are when I first joined the Alliance forces. I wanted to become a 'kill-all-Orcs-on-sight' Warrior, but they wouldn't allow it. They told me I had to be something more controlled, and something that they had a teacher for. So they made me be a Protection Warrior, a guardian, so I can still be in every enemy's face while I beat them down." He pops his knuckles and grins. "Shall I go and tell the Monk trainers that you're going to be a Mistweaver, then?"

I nod, but ask, "I don't know the first thing about healing, though. I'd never even seen it done until Shen-zin su was healed by the Alliance healers."

Xanirios claps my shoulder and I almost fall over from the force. I hadn't expected him to be so strong. "Don't worry, little Huiliang. You'll be an expert before you know it."

When we arrive in Stormwind, the gleaming Alliance capital city, some of the Alliance soldiers guide the Pandaren Monks to a small island on the outskirts of the city. There's a waterfall next to the island, and the island is under the shade of a large tree. On the island, someone had built a Pandaria-style arch to house a portal in the center. The portal is glowing a white-ish grey color, but it's impossible to make out any details of what is on the other side.

"Windwalkers will follow me through the portal," proclaimed a stout woman with a heavy accent, "then the Brewmasters will follow this Human," she gestures to a taller, slimmer Human man with reddish-brown hair. "And the Mistweavers will follow after them with that Draenei," the woman points behind the group at a blue-skinned goat-woman. "Windwalkers, we're off to Kun-lai Summit!" The woman hops through the portal and more than half of the assembled Pandaren follow. Xanirios wasn't wrong; there definitely was not a demand for fighters.

"Dwarves are so impatient," came a quiet voice from behind the group, "that one's especially bad." I turn to see the Draenei woman shuffling her hooves in the ground and picking dirt off her armor. "Kylar, you should be alright to go through now. Nesanlen will be long gone by the time you and your group crosses."

Kylar nods and replies, "Alright, Mideari. I'll see you and your healers on the other side." He steps through the portal, followed by a little more than half of the Pandaren remaining.

There are only seven Pandaren left with Mideari, and the tension in the air is almost tangible. No one says a word, but we're all thinking it: we're going into the unknown to learn things that no one of our race has ever learned before. Silently, Mideari walks toward the portal and steps in, leaving us to follow her.

Kun-lai Summit, as it turns out, is in the northernmost part of Pandaria, and only Monks from around the world can freely create portals to this place. We're at the Peak of Serenity, where all fighting between factions is banned, which is good, because there are plenty of Houjin Pandaren here training too.

The rest of the Tushui Mistweavers-in-training and I are standing in a circle around Mideari, watching as she draws mist out of the moist mountain air. She coats her hands with it and sends tendrils of it toward students individually. When she sends a tendril toward me, it wraps around my body gently and soothes the tension I was feeling. She holds the stream on me for a few seconds before moving on to the next student.

When Mideari is done going around the circle, she explains, "Mistweaving is a gentle art. It requires patience and understanding, and the ability to flow. In this way, Mistweavers are much like Shamans," she glances around the circle before continuing, "if you don't think you are up to this, you may join the Brewmasters or Windwalkers now."

I hold my breath in anticipation, wondering if anyone is going to leave, but no one does. I breathe a sigh of relief. With only seven total Mistweavers in the Alliance so far, even adding Mideari, our healing force as Monks seems laughable at best.

Mideari clears her throat. "Mistweavers are more powerful healers than you may expect. May I have a volunteer?" No one volunteers, so Mideari chooses an orange-colored Pandaren girl with a long tail. "I promise this won't hurt. Quite the opposite, really."

Mideari's display of skill is impressive. She never runs out of moves to show us. She's conjuring jade-colored tornadoes with a single kick, splitting herself from a spirit version of her and swapping locations with the spirit form instantly, forming tangible balls of mist on the ground, and, most impressively, forming a massive misty bubble around the student. When she finally stops, having not repeated a single ability, she asks, "Did any of that hurt?"

The Pandaren girl shakes her head quickly. "No, not even when you were kicking me."

"That's good. If I had actually hit you with an attack, I would have killed you instantly," Mideari's face darkens, "and we really wouldn't want that. After all of that, I wouldn't be able to revive you." Gasps and whispers spread through the group, but Mideari continues, "We're different from other Monks, you see. They are able to keep going as long as they have the energy, but our skills require the arcane source of power: Mana. Once we're out of Mana to tap into, there's very little we can do. With that in mind, let's try the most basic healing spell that Mistweavers can use.

"First, breathe and observe the moisture in the air. There is always something to use to make the mist we need, and these mountains are perfect. Now, picture the moisture swirling around your hands." I focus on imagining what that would look like, and immediately I think of the first skill that Mideari displayed. A turquoise ball of swirling mist had formed around her hands, and as soon as I picture it, the same thing happens for me.

"I got it!" I exclaim, surprised. Mideari's eyes widen with surprise and the rest of the group starts straining, so as not to be shown up by the youngest Pandaren of the Monks.

"You must have a natural gift for this," Mideari says, "Now try directing the mist in a stream toward me. Picture it covering me."

I picture the mist in my hands stretching and bending, expanding and shrinking. I'm testing the limits of the mist, and there seem to be none. I can completely get rid of it and conjure it back immediately, make it cover myself and form letters in the air. I will it to stretch toward Mideari, and it does. As soon as it touches her, she lets out a sigh of relief. "Well, that's one student at least that's a natural-born healer."

In the next few hours, I learned about five other skills for healing, and started practicing on other students and training dummies. I learned how to heal allies while hitting enemies, how to surge more mist into a stream, and how to split mist bubbles onto different people.

I almost feel like I'm annoying the other Mistweavers, so I start wandering around the Peak of Serenity. The Peak is on the top of a mountain, as the name implies, but there are wooden bridges and stairs leading to lower parts of the mountain and other training areas, where the other Monks are training. At the very top, there's a temple, but no one seems to be inside or near it.

I begin wandering down the stairs, wondering what kind of things the other Monks are learning. Some of the Windwalkers are practicing kicks, and others are furiously punching training dummies. I see some Brewmasters lifting giant kegs, and the odd few breathing fire.

Soon, I reach a small pond, with no more stairs going down, and I see a lone Pandaren meditating by the water. A light dusting of frost has formed on his shoulders. He must have been sitting here for a long time. I quietly walk around the pond to sit next to him, but he doesn't notice. We sit in silence for a while before he asks, "What do you want?"

Taken aback by his sudden speech, I nervously say, "Nothing, I just came down here after I finished my training."

The other Pandaren opens his eyes. "You too? I thought I was the only one who finished learning everything early."

I smile a little, "Mideari said I was a natural-born healer, so she taught me all I needed to know and let me go early."

"Mistweaver, eh? I'm a Brewmaster, Tushui," he puts his hands together and bows, a comforting sight after all the handshakes of the rest of the Alliance.

I return the bow and ask, "So, who are you? I'm Huiliang, Tushui, 24 years old."

"Shunyuan, 26," he replies, chuckling, "you sure are quick to give information."

I laugh too, "Well, everyone else I meet has been asking, so I figured I'd get it out of the way."

"I have a feeling we could get to be good friends," Shunyuan smiles, "you could even heal me during missions. This is perfect."

"I like the sound of that."


End file.
